


For Sale By Owner

by Shea M (bubblebee)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Antique Shop, Alternate Universe - Office, Biker Steve Rogers, Bucky Talks Like a Self Deprecating Millennial, Fluff, Humor, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Office Worker Bucky, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, So Now I'm Writing It, Some angst, bearded steve, i had a dream about this, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-06-21 01:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebee/pseuds/Shea%20M
Summary: When he looks back on it, Bucky thinks he could almost believe it was fate that made him turn down that street and see that sign and see him, for the first time.But he knows it was actually just good old fashioned Brooklyn traffic.





	1. Brooklyn Traffic a.k.a Fate

**Author's Note:**

> This story will have chapters, this is just the first one. I had a dream about this so I decided to puke it out. It's my first fic for this pairing so I hope I do okay, if not, oh well don't read it.

When he looks back on it, Bucky thinks he could almost believe it was fate that made him turn down that street and see that sign and see _him_ , for the first time.

 

But he knows it was actually just good old fashioned Brooklyn traffic.

 

It happened like this: he was on his way to work, and then he got stuck in traffic, you know like you always do? Ten minutes into talk radio he realized he really didn’t want to do this and took an abrupt and probably dangerous left turn. This street was almost jokingly clear, and Bucky cruised down it at about ten over.

 

That’s when he saw the sign, the store, and the man putting up the sign.

 

His rubbernecking almost got him killed when he nearly slammed into the back of a truck at a light he didn’t see turn red. No one died, so Bucky took a moment to steal another glance at the man. He doesn’t know what possessed him, but before he knew it he was squeezing out of his place in line and parking in front of the store. The man turned around when he heard a car door slam shut and Bucky nearly had a heart attack when he did.

 

This man was _gorgeous_.

 

He definitely didn’t look like the type of person you’d see standing outside of an antique shop, though, in his leather biker ensemble with thick hair and an even thicker beard to match. His eyes looked exactly like the sky and Bucky remembers wanting to throw himself into traffic for even _thinking_ about thinking something like that. Despite how true it was. He actually paid so much attention to those damn eyes that he didn’t notice when the man started speaking until he heard-

 

“-ir? Is there something I can help you with?”

 

There actually wasn’t, but now Bucky had to come up with something so he didn’t seem like a total creep. He let the first thing to come to his mind spill out of his mouth and prayed that it wasn’t something completely stupid.

 

“What’s the sign for?”

 

Okay. Not _completely_ stupid, but still pretty dumb. He could clearly see that the sign read FOR SALE BY OWNER in big, black letters and it didn’t really take a Doctorate to figure what that could possibly mean. It wasn’t his best first impression moment, but it also wasn’t his worst, so he didn’t give up hope just yet. He made sure to pay attention the next time the man opened his mouth.

 

“Oh, I’m selling the store. Apparently there’s not a lot of people in Brooklyn who collect antiques and I kind of didn’t know that when I opened shop so...yeah...it’s uh, now for sale.”

 

He said this like he wasn’t sure if he should be spilling all his possible bankruptcy problems on a stranger that obviously couldn’t read. Bucky felt like he should apologize to the man for his loss, but that didn’t feel too appropriate, so he let the _next_ thing that came to his mind fall out of his mouth, because that worked so well the first time. Hopefully it’d be a lot less stupid.

 

“How much are you selling it for?”

 

Maybe not.

 

The man looked surprised by the question, and Bucky couldn’t really blame him. Maybe he should just sew his mouth shut so he couldn’t say another stupid thing for the rest of his life until he died. That’d be for the best.

 

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I made the decision, then I made the sign, and in between actually making the sign and hanging it up I kind of forgot about that part.”

 

The man and his eyes had the audacity to look sheepish, and a blush thought it had the right to spread across the man’s face and Bucky’s heart actually dared to nearly stop beating for a second because of the way it all looked together.

 

Something in Bucky’s mind told him to say something because just staring at the man wasn’t going to work.

 

“That makes sense. How about you call me when you _do_ figure it out?”

 

He then proceeded to reach into his pocket, pull out a crumpled Starbucks receipt and a pen he doesn’t remember stealing from his bank so he could jot down his number and his name. All of this happened without his consent of course, because apparently his brain was one step ahead of him today, but once the man took the receipt from his outstretched there wasn’t really anything he could do.

 

The man looked at the receipt for a second, then looked at Bucky before slipping it into his back pocket with a smirk that nearly set Bucky on fire. This man was making him feel things he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager and he didn’t even know the man’s _name_. How was this is life?

 

“I’ll be sure to let you know, kid.” The man said, that damn smirk still plastered on his face, before he walked past Bucky towards a motorcycle he didn’t notice until now and swung his leg over it to straddle it. The engine roared to life and Bucky watched as the man backed up and sped away with a two-finger sault. Bucky continued to watch him go like a creep until he turned a corner and disappeared. He got into his car then, and called into work, because he was now almost an hour late and didn’t feel like coming up with a good excuse.

 

No one was too happy about it, he was supposed to be giving a presentation today after all, but Bucky couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

He was too busy falling in love with a biker from an antique shop.


	2. A (Business) Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow I know it took me forever to post this and I apologize severely but there's a lot going on right now and I'm doing my very best. Now that things have settled somewhat maybe I'll be able to work a little more steadily. Hope it was worth the wait!

Now, Bucky wasn’t actually expecting the man to call him if he was being honest with himself.

 

For one thing, he was  _ way  _ out of Bucky’s league, and his approach to talking to the man had left a shit load of things to be desired. It wasn’t his fault the man was so good looking it made all of Bucky’s basic social skills leave his brain while talking to him. 

 

For another thing, it was probably obvious to the guy that Bucky had no idea what the fuck he was doing when it came to owning anything, let alone an entire antique shop. What the fuck was he thinking? Of course, he doesn’t know shit about owning a business, he’s a damn architect for shit’s sake. All he does is draw lines in the shape of buildings. 

 

Not that architects can’t own their own businesses, Bucky just knows that he himself specifically can’t. 

 

All he wanted was an excuse to talk to the guy, but now it looked like he was going to save him from bankruptcy while he was at it. 

 

When his phone rang later that night while he was making dinner, Bucky decided to ignore it completely. If it was important, they’d leave a voicemail. He wasn’t stopping his spaghetti for anything. Something would have to kill him first. Bucky left his pot of sauce on the stove to simmer for a minute while he went to find something worth watching with dinner. It was Monday though, and nothing was ever on Monday nights, so it was going to be a lost cause anyway. 

 

It was while he was flipping mindlessly through the channels that Bucky heard his phone buzz from the kitchen. 

 

Huh, maybe it was important after all. 

 

Bucky clicked off the TV with an exasperated sigh and threw the remote on the couch to be ate and lost forever before heading back into the kitchen. Which was now a disaster area because the “simmer” he thought he left the sauce on had apparently been a roiling boil that spat tomato sauce all over the stove and counter. He quickly turned off the stove and moved it off the burner to try and salvage it, but upon tasting it he discovered it was burnt and also really terrible. He’d forgotten to get noodles anyway, he found out when he opened up his cabinet, so. 

 

Yeah. 

 

Takeout it is, then. 

 

Bucky cleaned the kitchen up before grabbing his phone and heading back into the living room to order food. When he picked up his phone, there wasn’t a voicemail waiting for him like he thought there’d be. Instead, there was a notification telling him he’d missed a call from a number he didn’t recognize, and a text. Two actually. 

 

_ If you’re seriously thinking about buying my store,  _ the first text read,  _ then we should probably actually introduce ourselves. I’m Steve Rogers. _

 

It was the man from the shop earlier. His name was Steve. Of course, it was.  __

 

_ And you are? _ was the second text, sent about a minute after the first. 

 

Despite it not being anything from work, it was still kind of important, and Bucky felt like the biggest asshole in the world when he sent his response back nearly an hour later. 

 

_ James Barnes, but my friends get to call me Bucky.  _

 

He hit send, then, after a moment’s consideration: 

 

_ I’m sorry for replying so late. I had a few dinner malfunctions.  _

 

Bucky sent that too and felt like an idiot almost immediately after doing so. Steve could probably give a New York rat’s ass what his problems were, dinner or otherwise. He felt bad for leaving him hanging for so long though, so he had to say something to try and explain himself and his assholeness.

 

Steve’s response came a few minutes later in the form of a second phone call while he was elbows deep in the couch cushions looking for the remote. Bucky tried not to sound as irritated as he felt when he answered with a slightly winded, “Hello?”.

 

_ “What kind of dinner malfunctions?”  _

 

It took him a second at first.

 

“Oh! Uh well, I was making spaghetti and I was going to leave the sauce to simmer while I found something to watch but since it’s Monday there wasn’t dick on and I guess I don’t know what simmer means because when I got back to the kitchen the sauce was boiling and going everywhere and I didn’t even have fucking noodles in the end so...yeah. It just didn’t work out.” 

 

Hearing all of that out loud made it sound like something straight out of an  _ I Love Lucy  _ episode, which made the whole situation that much more ridiculous. Here Bucky was, a grown ass man in his thirties, and he couldn’t even manage spaghetti. The fact that he managed to land the job he did amazed him every day.

 

_ “Damn all that work and you didn’t even have noodles? That’s messed up.”  _

 

“I fucking  _ know  _ right? I was going to order some take out or something but then I saw your text and then I tried to find the remote and then you called and...yeah…” 

 

Why is he still talking? Why? 

 

_ “Well, how would you like to have dinner with me then?” _

 

Everything stopped for a second and much like the puck on a high striker his stomach shot straight up into his throat before dropping back down to settle in with butterflies that flittered there. 

 

“Dinner?”, he parroted, trying to keep how surprised and eager he was out of his voice. “With you? Like right now?” Bucky could slap himself. Of course he meant right now idiot, it’s dinner time, ain’t it? Get your shit together Barnes, this isn’t your first rodeo. 

 

_ ‘If it’s not a bad time of course.”  _ Steve said as if Bucky never reacted like a teenage girl.  _ “I don’t want to put you out in any way I just thought it’d be a good time to talk about the shop? If you’re still interested that is.” _ Oh, Bucky was interested all right. He just kind of wished he thought this through a little bit more instead of just letting his dick talk for him. Oh well. 

 

There’s no harm in learning about business ownership over a free dinner with a hot bearded biker.

 

“I’m still interested!”, Bucky said a bit too quickly, “I’m definitely still interested, I just need to get ready. Could you give me like an hour and I could try and promise not to make us eat real late?” A soft chuckle came through the phone and Bucky hoped he would manage to pull a few real ones out of the man later. 

 

_ “I could give you as much time as you need and you don’t have to promise me anything. I don’t mind waiting and eating a little later, I usually do so anyway. Between the shop and my bike, I tend to lose track of time pretty easy. Send me your address when you’re ready and I’ll come pick you up.”  _

 

God, this man was unreal. Seriously, the  _ definition  _ of a gentleman. 

 

“You don’t have to do all that, I have a car too you know, I can drive myself.” Bucky’s never been on a motorcycle before and the thought of having to get on one now gives him a slight pause. 

 

Luckily, Steve was a mind reader as well. 

 

_ “Is it the bike? Because if it is I have another vehicle. It’s a truck I use to drive out of town to pick up furniture and stuff for the shop. It’s not as nice but it goes just fine. I could pick you up in that if you’d prefer? Unless you just really want to drive yourself, which is fine too.” _

 

“No that’s fine. The truck, I mean, if it’s not going to put you out.” Wow, Bucky never realized how high maintenance he was before. Steve was sure to get a kick out of him. 

 

_ “Of course it’s no problem, James. I don’t mind at all. You’re doing me a favor here really. I guess I should let you go so you can get ready now.”  _ Another chuckle, except this one sounds a little embarrassed. _ “See you in a bit?”  _

 

“Yeah, you sure will, I’ll text you the address when I’m done.”

 

They say the rest of their goodbyes with another promise to see each other soon and Bucky has just enough time to sit on the coffee table before his legs give out completely. That was the most nerve-racking phone call he’s ever participated in and he once had to call his mother at work from school so he could tell her that he put an almost entire pack of chewed up gum in Betty Shoemaker’s hair in the third grade.

 

She didn’t lose that much hair in the removal process, but it didn’t really sit right for weeks and neither did Bucky after the ass whooping his mother gave him when she got him home that day. The school didn’t even punish him really, just made him write an apology letter to Betty and her mom, because of the beating he got. 

 

Bucky took a glance at the time and decided he should get his ass in gear and get ready. It always took him forever when it was for a date because it was really the only time Bucky cared what people thought when they saw him. 

 

First impressions and all that. 

 

With a sigh so deep and heavy it made the all the whales in the oceans sing, he got up from his spot on the table and made his way to his bedroom to stare into his closet for thirty frustrating minutes. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for putting up with me. You can find me on Tumblr @spidersonparker and @cryptidtiddies if you want to talk shit or request a prompt. Or on twitter, also @cryptidtiddies. I'm there too.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @spidersonparker or @cryptidtiddies if you want to talk, ask questions, or request a prompt.


End file.
